Dusk to Starlight
by Alma
Summary: After reading an unfinished letter a day after his death, Tifa finally understands Cloud.
1. Rewrite

This is a rewrite of something I wrote back in 2003. I decided to keep the original stored in chapter 2 since it seems some people really liked it. But I wanted to do this rewrite anyways, and it ended up being quite different. Warning - Good ole fashioned angstiness ahead.

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_Dusk to Starlight_

Every evening I watch the sunset through the silhouetted branches of a dead tree. I wait until the last bits of light fall beneath the horizon and the sky succumbs to its natural state of cold dark blue. Sometimes I even wait for twilight to fade into starlight. I wait for the stars to make their lonely appearances, one by one – tiny points of light far in the distance like glittering drops of water strewn about the vast black canvas of sky. It's so silent at night here, with nothing but the rush of ocean waves against the shoreline, a rhythmic heartbeat to the planet. Often, I think of you. I think of the way your long dark hair brushes against your shoulders, the way your eyes curve upwards when you smile. I think of a time that feels so long ago when you leaned against my shoulder under the empty Highwind and we watched a sunset together – when we realized that we were two people entirely alone with no family and no home to fight for or return to. But when you held my hand in yours and your eyes met mine, in that moment, we were no longer alone. We had each other. You fell asleep next to me, with my arm wrapped around you because you were cold and because you gave me an inner warmth I'd never felt before. Suddenly, I had a purpose greater than revenge. You gave me a reason to live. At that time, killing Sephiroth and my own death had felt like they went hand-in-hand. But not after that night with you. I realized that I wanted to continue living afterwards – after all the bloodshed and pain had been left behind – that I wanted to continue living with you.

But good things never last, do they? My optimism crumbled like ash when I realized my love for you would never be fulfilled. Could never be. You are perfect – a porcelain beauty with an inner strength I could never match. You are always cheerful, always hopeful. And whenever I'm with you, I feel total elation and the rest of the world just washes away, like a gulp of fresh breath beneath stifling waters. But sometimes I see myself as I am. I see myself standing next to you and I realize that you could never love me. What am I, but a mess of tangled emotions that I can't even name? How can I even be certain what I feel for you is love at all? And how can you ever actually love someone who's failed to save others, who's failed to be strong and sensible and fearless? You are pure and beautiful, while I...

This is the last sunset I'll watch. When the stars come out, it will be over. They were the same stars that we fell asleep under years ago, my arm tight around your shoulders. The same stars we made a promise under even more years ago atop a leaky wooden well. The same stars you are under now. Will you watch them brighten into existence as the sun sets? Will you watch them fade with the morning's light? --

--

The letter ended there, unfinished. It would never be finished because the hand that wrote it lay cold and still. He can never stand beside her again or hug her shoulders to him. He can never kiss her cheek or smile or laugh or cry. And he had never told her these things that he'd written. He kept it all hidden away, masked behind shiny blue eyes that never betrayed him. But now the reason was becoming clear to her. She stood alone in his villa, a day after he had drowned himself there, clasping the letter in one hand. She had found it on the floor beneath the windowsill.

"You should not have come here." Cloud's voice came from behind her, sudden and low.

She spun around to face him. His eyes were no longer luminous and his skin was deathly pale, his hair colorless. Tears welled in her eyes.

"You wrote this for me." She spoke softly into the emptiness, taking a small step backwards.

The villa felt cavernous and unnaturally silent without his presence. A single bulb hung from the ceiling, shedding a cone of yellowish light over her shoulder, down onto the sheet of paper in her hand. His handwriting was scrawled across it in hasty script.

He quickly stepped forward and snatched the paper from her. "Yes, but it no longer matters." In an instant, he tore it into tiny pieces and let the pieces scatter from his palm onto the hardwood floor. Tifa watched, her throat tight and lips pressed together.

"It does matter," she replied in a whisper, "It does to me." She stared down at the ripped pieces of paper through blurry eyes, and then looked back at Cloud.

She wanted to reach out to him, to grab his shoulder, to hug him and know that he was real. But he wasn't. She shut her eyes, squeezing out the tears. Her body felt cold and broken. And an abrasive loneliness grabbed her with a ferocity she'd never known before. It raked through her bones, tearing apart her muscles and leaving behind a dull numbing pain. He had never told her how he felt. Perhaps he never really wanted her to know.

"I miss you already..." The words soundlessly fell from her lips, and hot tears forced their way through her shut eyes, sliding down her cheeks in rapid succession.

"But you never loved me." His response was cold and flat.

"That's not true," she insisted quietly, shaking her head and letting the tears fall from her chin. "I'll find you. I'll find you again. Just don't leave me. Please don't leave me..."

When she opened her eyes again, Cloud was gone. He was never there. In her hand she still held the crinkled paper, intact, with his words scribbled across. She stood alone, feeling nothing. The front door creaked open.

"Tif, you in here?" Barret's voice called softly into the empty house.

"Yeah." She found it hard to speak, and her first attempt was nothing but a scratchy whisper. "Yeah, I'm here."

"Come on, girl. Come back to the inn." Barret gently placed his arm on her shoulder. "This ain't no place for you to be hangin' 'round."

Tifa nodded, dimly aware of him leading her out of Cloud's villa. The others were no doubt worried about her, given that she was the closest emotionally to Cloud. But she couldn't be sad. She was beyond it now, lost in a sensation of pure detachment. Her fist closed around Cloud's letter.

"Whatcha got there?" Barret pointed down at the paper.

"Nothing." She folded it up and slipped it into her pocket. A hot pain spread along the base of her skull.

"Gettin' late and we gotta get up early for the funeral and all," Barret continued, talking as delicately as possible, "So how 'bout we just get some rest." He tried to smile, but she was staring off at something far away and did not notice.

Just before leaving, Tifa looked back for a moment at the darkened room. She wondered just how many times Cloud had stood by the window and watched the sunset, telling himself that he would never be good enough for her. How many times had he thought about her, kept himself awake over her, convincing himself that she could never love him? It was all so wrong, she thought, so unjust. Barret said nothing more, and slowly pulled her away from it all, back towards the inn.

That night she stayed awake, watching the stars from her window. They looked different to her now, as if they were the ones that had changed with time instead of her. Morning came sooner than she would have liked, and a patch of gray clouds gathered on the horizon, like a host of solemn morticians announcing the arrival of a funeral day. She continued to watch the tiny flecks of light in the sky, however, with the exhaustion and melancholy of someone desperately trying to halt the inevitable. One by one, they dipped into brightening shades of blue until at last they vanished with the sunrise. When the final stars faded away, she shut her eyes and a piece of her heart closed forever.


	2. Original

Here is the original version (rewrite is in chapter 1). I think the angst here is going overboard, which is why I rewrote it. But some people liked it, so I kept it here. Original title: Unspoken Tragedy.

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I thought love was all-powerful. I thought love was supposed to conquer. Instead, I am left with this hollow emptiness, a void of horrid emotion. Why couldn't we just be happy together? Why must we stand so close, yet speak no words. You are near me and yet so distant. I can never have you. 

Love is supposed to heal all wounds and fill one with wondrous feelings of joy. Where is that? I love you, yet I can feel no joy. An aching desire drowns my lungs. I cannot speak to you.

Eye contact; a beautiful display of your ruby soul. We were together once, in a perfect yet temporary permanence. I loved you then inside your glass case. You were untouchable and hidden. Perfect and porcelain. How could such a love affair exist?

Now, what distance has grown and how different we are. I still love you, I never stopped. But love cannot conquer all. Love is a lie, a rotten angel, a mask. Love is not all powerful. I thought we could love each other now, but that is a lie too.

Things can never be that perfect permanence ever again. Our past is cemented over. I cannot forget the happiness you once gave me. I don't ask for it back.

I just want to apologize. Let me apologize. But you turn your head away. Perhaps you never saw me to begin with.

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--The letter ended there, unfinished. It would never be finished, for the hand that wrote such words can never move again. He can never hold her hand or gently touch her cheek. Now he lies in the cold permanence he wrote about. He kept his emotions entirely hidden from the world, entirely masked under his beautiful azure eyes, those burning lakes of fire. He never wanted life after her. 

"I never intended for you to read that," Cloud told Tifa, snatching the paper away from her.

There were tears in her burgundy eyes.

"You wrote this for me," she spoke through her pain.

Cloud ripped up the paper in an instant. "You no longer exist to me," he replied coldly, turning his back to her.

"Why only after your death do I learn your true emotions?" Tifa reached out for him. She wanted to grasp his shoulder and know that he was real. He wasn't.

"Love is dead. I loved you once, as you loved me." Cloud turned a little to look at her, his voice steady as her heartbeat.

"I did love you," Tifa choked the words out through the thick sorrow in her throat.

"Did. You did. But not now. And I couldn't heal from its wounds. I would never heal, don't you understand?" He still would not face her entirely.

"You wrote it down yet you never intended for it to reach my hands." Tifa stared at the ripped pieces of paper scattered on the floor through her blurry eyes.

"You were the only emotion I ever felt. I couldn't live without you, because what is life without emotion? I was hollow, I was empty, I was dead. Now do you understand?" Cloud's voice began to falter.

"I miss you, even if I no longer love you," she whispered, picking up the fragments of his poem.

"I'll always love you, but I do not miss you."

"Perhaps in another life, I'll find you and we can be together happily." Tifa closed her eyes, letting the tears glide down her cheeks, sparkling in the moonlight.

When she opened her eyes again, Cloud was gone. He was never there. She held his paper in her hand, intact, the words scribbled across it. She was in his villa in Costa del Sol a day after he had committed suicide there. He drowned himself.

"Tif, you in here?" Barrett's soft voice called into the empty house.

"Yeah, yeah I'm here." She found it hard to speak.

"Come back to the Inn. We were gettin' worried 'bout you. You really shouldn't be upsettin' yourself, hanging 'round his house," Barrett gently placed his arm on her shoulder.

Tifa knew that they were waiting for her at the Inn, perhaps hoping she wasn't taking Cloud's death too hard. She wasn't as close to him as they all thought. Maybe she finally understood why he did it after tonight.

"You talkin' to someone in here?" Barrett raised an eyebrow, leading her out of Cloud's villa.

"Nah, it was nobody." She wiped the tears away.

"Whatcha got there?" He pointed at the paper.

"Nothing." She folded it up and slipped it into her pocket, feeling a hot pain spread over her mind.

"It's late and we gotta get up early for the funeral. Let's try to get some rest," Barrett tried to say it tenderly.

Tifa looked back for a moment at the darkened room that would never again appear bright to her eyes and sighed. She finally did understand him. She understood his longing, his pain, his lust, his sorrow, his suicide.

And for a moment, the memories of the coldness in his glance and the numbness of his touch disappeared. She realized his tragedy. He was dead even when he was alive. He never lived if he only lived for her love.


End file.
